


Portrait Mode (Part Four)

by skymageariel



Series: 31 days of The Dragon Prince [30]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Modern AU, Slow Burn, school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skymageariel/pseuds/skymageariel
Summary: In order to get this painting just right, Callum and Rayla head to Beacon Rock State Park in the middle of winter. Things go... well.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: 31 days of The Dragon Prince [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946767
Comments: 17
Kudos: 36





	Portrait Mode (Part Four)

Beacon Rock State Park sat alongside the Columbia River. Everyone who lived in the area had been at least once. It was home to several beautiful trails and beaches, with beautiful scenery you couldn’t get if you weren’t in Washington. It had trees taller and thicker than anywhere else. Which is exactly why Callum needed to bring Rayla here. She wanted trees? She’d get trees. 

The very moment they arrived at the park, the  _ second  _ they opened the car doors, Rayla was in awe. Back home were mostly plains and mountains. Forests ran sparse and small. But here, there was nature as far as the eye could see, woods running for what seemed like forever. And in combination with the cloudy sky, the crisp winter air, and the bits of snow dusting every single branch of every single tree, Rayla deduced that this was the best place she’d ever been. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered as she, Callum, Ezran and Amaya stepped out of the car. 

“Yeah,” Callum agreed, watching the way Rayla’s hair moved in the breeze. He shouldered his backpack, full of paints, brushes, and the canvas he needed. Together, the four of them trekked down towards the boat launch. It was a short walk, and since they didn’t have an actual boat to bring with them, the trip was relatively quick. 

At the dock, the breeze really started to pick up. Cold was an understatement, and the air stung like pinpricks on any exposed skin. The water lapped at the shore, seemingly annoyed. Aside from the chill, it was a perfect day. The docks were empty- a perfect, quiet, secluded spot for one to paint their cares away. 

“Ezran and I are going to try one of the trails,” Amaya signed to the group. “We’ll leave you two here. Call me when you’re ready to go, alright?”

“Will do,” Callum replied, smiling as his aunt and brother walked away. He took a deep breath, turning back to the docks before them. “Shall we?” he asked. Rayla nodded, pulling up the hood of her winter coat.

“Is Washington always this cold?” she asked as they settled at the end of the dock. Callum shook his head. 

“It’s warm in the summers,” he assured her, setting his backpack down. “And this is the coldest it ever really gets. But you have to admit the scenery makes up for the cold.” 

Rayla couldn’t help but agree. From their spot on the water, the forest looked small. But up close, those pines were giants. As she scanned the horizon, her eyes landed on what looked like a giant mountain. It shot up out of the ground, plateauing at the top. Its sides were rough and jagged. Not a mountain, she decided. 

“What’s that over there?” she pointed to the structure without taking her eyes from it.

“That would be Beacon Rock,” Callum explained. “848 feet tall, and kind of a tourist attraction, especially for hikers.”

“You can  _ climb  _ that thing?”

“We could, if you wanted.” His voice was paired by the sound of a scratching pencil. Rayla whipped around to find him sitting criss-cross on the dock, already sketching on the canvas.

“What are you doing?” She asked, leaning over to see the canvas. 

“I’m doing my art project- don’t look yet!” Callum held the canvas close to his chest. “Go back to looking at stuff,” he grinned, “I’ll show you when it’s done, okay?”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Picasso.” She turned back towards the shore.

“Actually, Picasso was a misogynist, I’d like to not be compared to him.”

“Uh, okay. How about Vincent van Gogh?”

“He went crazy and cut off his ear.”

“Is there any artist that’s unproblematic and mentally stable?”

Callum thought for a moment. “Me,” he said. Rayla scoffed, hiding a laugh. Neither of them knew what to say next, and silence took over as the waves around them stilled. After a few minutes, Rayla sat down at the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the water as she continued to study the mountain in front of her. Silently, Callum moved up next to her, bringing his paints with him, though he wasn’t done the sketch yet.

As Callum drew, he began planning out the colors he’d need. Obviously he’d start with a bit of a grey wash to match the sky. And a deep evergreen for the forest behind his subject. For Rayla herself… 

He glanced up at where she sat on the dock. The wind had knocked back her hood, and she hadn’t bothered pulling it back up, leaving her hair cascading over her shoulders. Though she faced away from him, gazing at the shore and Beacon Rock in the distance, Callum remembered what she looked like perfectly. The cold had put a blush on her cheeks and nose, rising up to the tops of her ears, too. He sketched her lips smiling, and that dimple on her cheek. He added the slit she’d put in her eyebrow, and remembered to dot on those faint, faint freckles that only existed on the bridge of her nose. She really was beautiful. 

“Are you done yet, Monet?” she asked, sending a shockwave through the stillness they’d been surrounded with. 

“I haven’t even started painting,” Callum replied, ignoring the nickname with a smile. He liked Monet. 

“Well start painting, I’m getting cold,” Rayla sniffed. The clouds above moved in an angry, but patient line, clouding the sky with a deeper grey every minute. Scooping water from the river below into a cup, and pouring grey onto his palette, Callum made the first paint stroke. Those were always the most nerve wracking, the first strokes. It was a permanent change to the canvas. No going back. There was the added pressure to the fact that he was merely holding the canvas. No easel, no desk, just his thumb pinching the corners, hoping it didn’t fall into the water.

The clouds only darkened as the painting progressed. Soon, the wind had started to pick up again, waves running up and down the shore, pushing and pulling the dock with the tide. Callum’s fingers had been numb for a while, but once the wind picked up, they started shaking uncontrollably. Each line with the brush became more and more unsteady.

“It’s getting kind of dark,” Rayla noted, shifting uncomfortably. “It looks like it might snow soon.”

“That’s nice.” Callum was too focused on capturing the way Rayla’s eyes still shone in the dark light to listen.

“You don’t think maybe it’s time to head back for a while? Come back tomorrow?”

“Cool,” he replied. Rayla glanced over at the boy. He seemed to be scowling at the painting. His ungloved hands wouldn’t stop shivering. 

“Here, you finish that bit up real quick, and I’ll gather your things, okay?” Rayla stood, scooping all the tubes of paint into his backpack. He didn’t move. She dumped all the dirtied paint water back into the river (making a silent apology to the things that lived there) and tossed the cup into his bag. Callum remained focused on the portrait. After slipping the palette into a plastic bag, throwing that in his backpack as well, she tapped his shoulder. Just as she did, snowflakes started to fall. “Callum, we should go.”

“Just a sec,” he said through cold lips. The wind picked up, snow drifting heavily through the air, dark clouds swirling above. Callum reached his brush to the side, as if trying to dip it in his palette, but was met with the wood of the dock. “What gives! Where’s all my stuff!”

“We need to go. Look!” Rayla pointed to the shore, where Ezran and Amaya were waving frantically. Callum’s head snapped up, looking at his family. He looked up, watching the snow fall around him.

“Oh, true. We should probably go.”

“No shit, Sherlock, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past eight minutes,” Rayla grumbled, pulling him up by the elbow.

“I liked Monet, if we’re gonna call me names, can we go back to that?” He asked, Rayla pulling him by the hand to the end of the dock. Despite the numbness creeping through his hands, her gloves made a warmth drift up his arm. Resisting the urge to stop dead in his tracks, Callum’s eyes widened as they kept walking. He recognized that feeling. That warm feeling he got when he was with Claudia- nope, nope. Not speaking it into existence. Not this time.

“Sorry we took so long,” Amaya signed, “It was cold so we headed back to the car and lost track of time.”

“It’s okay. Da Vinci over here was taking his sweet time anyways,” Rayla replied. “Let’s get back before he loses a hand to hypothermia.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Callum protested, though his hands stumbled over the words. Rayla sighed and took off her gloves, stuffing them in his hands. Wordlessly, just desperate to get back to the car, the four hiked back up as the snow hurried down. 

—

As soon as they got home, Callum practically ran to the kitchen table. He dumped out all his supplies, laying the canvas down in front of him, eager to get back to work. Rayla smiled, coming up slowly behind him so as to catch a glimpse of his progress. But upon seeing his work, she stifled a gasp. It was perfect. 

“Woah,” she breathed, forgetting she wasn’t supposed to see. Callum flinched, startled to find her behind him.

“Jeeze, you scared me,” he said, turning back to the portrait. “Don’t come up behind me like that.”

“Sorry, it’s just-“ Rayla struggled to find the words. With the wood end of the brush, he was dotting freckles on the bridge of her nose. “It’s really good,” she finally said. 

“I made the nose too big again,” he complained. “I always do that.”

“Well I think it’s perfect,” she assured him. He looked up at her with a smile that made her cheeks go scarlet. Maybe he’d think it was because of the cold. 

“Thanks,” he grinned. “You were a great subject. I’d love to paint you again sometime.”

“I’d like that very much, actually.” Rayla tried not to sound sappy. But looking at that painting in front of the two of them, it was hard not to. “You’ve got a gift,” she told him. Callum’s ears turned pink as he smiled wider. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi thanks so much for reading! this is the last installment in this miniseries, and this was super fun to write. its one of the ones where things aren’t perfect at the end, but when you get to the end, theres hints that things go well. open endings are kind of fun, in my opinion, because then i get to imagine what happens with the characters after lol
> 
> today is day 30- the second to last day in this 31 days series. though i’ve fallen off the edge a few times, i am still eternally grateful for the love and support i’ve gotten while writing this. the kindness in my comments is so nice and refreshing, so thanks everyone for being so positive under my posts
> 
> tomorrow is the finale and i have some big stuff planned! i’ll explain more when we get there, but for now, let me just say thanks so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed this chapter and i’ll see you all tomorrow <3


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